I won't lie to you guys, I've been a loaf. I wanted to lie and say that I've been saving the world for the past month and that's the reason why I haven't made a post, but I just can't be bothered to. Lying takes energy; energy that right now, I don't have. Perhaps in my next post (that I hope won't be a month from now) i'll tell you what i've done, what's been happening and where i've been.
Honestly though, i've been experiencing a bit of a block and I didn't know what to say to you guys. Do you remember me apologizing for these days? Well i'm glad I did, because I really am not in the mood to apologize to you guys today, and if I did somehow, it would be so reluctant and half-hearted that it would've been better if I didn't. No, i'm not having a bad day nor am I hungry, so don't try to figure out my dull mood (I did apologize, before hand, for days like these as well- thank God for disclaimers).
I've been thinking lately, how weird it is that we can't remember the very first stages of our own lives.. we can't remember that alien like kicking, moving thing we did inside our mommies, nor our first tooth, nor the first time sleeping through a whole night without crying because of a wet diaper or because we were cold or because we got hungry. We can't remember what the doctor told the nurse when we were born nor can we remember the way our moms smiled at us through tears. We can't remember the pain of being detached from her nor can we remember the comfort of her touch for the first time. We can't remember the first time we tasted sugar nor the way our little mouths suckled over our bare mothers' skins. We can't remember falling for the first time and laughing it off because our mommies made it funny. We just can't remember, even if it was captured in moving pictures or still photographs and we were to look back at them. In the photograph above, I was there, in her womb, growing slowly, but I can't remember that. We can not remember, but one person does, and my person is Precious.
"Why do you call her Precious?" because she is all that and more in every definition of the word. Sure, the name was one she got from friends after one blessed Sabbath morning at church when she tried to sing this song, "Precious lord take my hand... lead me on, let me stand"... and broke down around the second line or so... Apparently, how that story goes is that everyone else in the church was being the typical understanding black christians, and every now and again shouted a comforting "take your time sister," "amen," or "hallelujah," to help my mother recover and continue singing, BUT MY GRANDMOTHER, Victoria, HAD TO BE CAPTAIN BUSHY PARK SDA and proceeded to get up and help my mother to sing the song... a song ... that.. she ... didn't... even... know. Can you believe it? Now, let me know, why would she do that? Two more lines into the song THAT SHE CLEARLY DOESN'T KNOW, my grandmother tries to save the day again.. and begins to hum .. A WHOLE DIFFERENT TUNE, now it would've been bad, but not so bad, if she had just stood there and rubbed my mother's back and hummed her own song, because that wasn't Precious Lord anymore, but Grandma has a high soprano voice, and the dips and rolls that Precious Lord required were just too much for her. So safe to say, they both made a complete mess of that song on that Saturday morning, and the name stayed. My mother would be Precious, and the butt of many jokes from that moment on; thanks Grandma, real OG. Okay, in all honesty, I can't tell you if I was in church that day or not, so maybe, just maybe, I exaggerated just a bit... don't judge me.
But yes, my mother Precious, is precious. The love this woman exudes from inside her is so pure and true that I can't seem to find it anywhere else but in her... I've searched far and wide inside living and non-living things, in people and in distant memories, but they have all lead back to her. Sometimes I think perhaps it's inside me too somewhere, because she, as well as numerous other persons, have spoken of this light inside me that I myself am yet to see. Maybe I have adapted it from her, because in truth she has taught me practically everything I know.
It is true when they say that your first teachers are your parents because Precious has taught me so much directly and indirectly, that I wouldn't have been who I am today if she wasn't there to do so from the very earliest stages of my life. Literally though, she always has some lesson to teach me, even if she did a good job teaching it the eighty gamizillion times before. I complain about it and you'd think she would stop, but she never does, and I don't want her to either- wait, mother, if you are to read this, do not screenshot what I said to use against me in the future, it only applies to this blog with the soul intention of tugging at the heart strings of my readers, so DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT MEAN IT.
My mother is a giver, a lover, and a nurse. Ever since she was old enough, my mother has been caring for people, who couldn't have cared for themselves, and she still is. Even after nursing her cousins, her younger sisters and me, she still needed to give more. Her time and effort is what she offered to anyone who deserved or needed it. Her god-given talent of caring pushed her into one of the most meaningful career paths in this world and she has touched so many lives and saved so many more that I cannot begin to count. Of course, she never speaks of her patients, because that's against the law, but on the nights when she came home with sore feet, tired eyes, slurry words and an unfathomable hunger, because she didn't get to eat lunch, I could tell. There were many mornings, after toiling all night, when she didn't even have the strength to eat, and all she wanted was to sleep, and I could tell. There were even the days when she'd come with a gift basket, or candy, or a card that was delivered to her that day that she couldn't return to the grateful patients who were in her care, and I could tell.There were days when I would walk through school and persons would tell me how good my mother treated them at the hospital and how good of a nurse she is. I'd mention it to her, and sometimes she'd smile or laugh when i got frustrated by her nonchalance, but it was the same response every time, "Oh, really? Well, I don't know." and i'd simply look at her, because we both knew.
The bond I share with my mother is unbreakable. Simply unbreakable. Kimmy Schmidt has NOTHING on us. Yes, I blurred the photo so you guys couldn't go stalking her profile, but even though I did, as you can see, she is like my most favourite person ever @my mom's instagram name and inserts emojis. She's is my best friend, my twin, my ride or die, my homie, my top shotta, my momma bear, my love bug my etc., my etc., and my etc. I can tell her everything as she raised me to be completely honest with her and to express myself, respectfully, if I needed to. I guess that's why i'm so liberal. I speak my mind, and I fear nothing and no one.. i'm still working on the respectful part, but that's not her fault, despite her being slightly quick tempered, I do think it's just the rebel in me.
Half the time, we laugh at the stupidest things and no one else but us, really gets our jokes, no one else but us really gets how one bag of Philippines Brand dried mangoes can be done in a jiffy or how we can eat more fruits and veggies than we do ice-cream. The only time in which I had a serious issue with that was when she went on a diet and my whole life turned into Kale. Our favourite Sunday morning ritual, I must say, would have been to wake up around 9 in the morning, laze around in our old red couch for a bit and look at the cruise ships and make plans to take a trip -which we have yet to do- get dressed and be at brunch by 11 at Long Bay Beach Hotel near Carrot Bay, in Tortola, BVI. Precious loved to cook and probably is the best chef out there (fight me, I don't care, because my mom still is better at baked chicken than yours ever will be) but my mother is also a foodie, a food enthusiast and a gourmet food critic. We spent most of our time, during our last visit to Jamaica together on a food tour; visiting numerous restaurants and documenting each visit and I bet you we would do it all over again.
But despite the fun we had trying new restaurants, the days when I would come home to no dinner ready were the absolute worst, like.. how could you mother?? How could you have sent me out for eight hours a day, to toil in each class amongst those terrible children and not have food ready for me when I get home?? Has the love for me vanished?? Why am I being treated like a stepchild?? Why mother, why?? What did I ever do to deserve this fate?? And the dramatics would go on until I was either fed or yelled at or both, but I was never left hungry. My mother would have saved the last drop of anything she had left to give it to me, the last crumb, the last sugar crystal or the last grain of rice, even if it meant she was to starve. Why? Because my mother loves me unconditionally, and couldn't bare to see me suffer- like, how lucky am I?- and even though right now, we're in two different places, and i'm coming home some nights to no food from eight hours of work a day, toiling amongst a few terrible adults, I knew if she needed to, nothing would stop her from finding me and giving me her last.. even if it meant after that i'd be yelled at.
I miss her more than I could attest to, more than I can explain, more than i can write in this little blog post, because nothing, or no one can replace her, and I hope she knows, remembers, and never doubts that. I love her to the end of the galaxy, around the solar system, over the hill and down in the gully and back fifty gazimibillion times over multiplied by infinity cubed. I miss her hugs and her warmth, I miss her laughter, I miss her silly jokes, and I miss her presence, I miss her smile, and I miss her talking to me about things I didn't even want to hear - and no these aren't tears running down my cheeks right now, these are simply dampened salty crystals. Besides how can I cry when i'm smiling? Like, what? Anyways...
You have been the best thing in my life, Precious. You have been my sole provider, my soul provider, and my soul mate. My truest love, you are my weakness, I tell everyone this, but i've never told you. When we argue or we just don't quite understand what the other person has said, and situations get out of hand, i'm so saddened and frustrated and annoyed that I just can't cope, because my only joy in this world is making you happy and making you smile, and knowing that our mother-daughter bond is only getting stronger, because i'm getting older, and sadly, so are you, and I do not know the future so, I need you more with each unknown day, more than ever. Goodbye might become permanent too soon, and i'll never be ready for that, nor will I ever heal- God... these dampened salt crystals are everywhere.
Mom, I cherish ever good or bad memory I have with you. i apologize for ever causing you pain, even if it was just during childbirth and it could not have been avoided, I am sorry, I'm sorry that I had such a big head. My whole world is you. My whole being is you. My whole life has been you. I've never lived a day without you, despite you living years without me. You formed this lucky egg and you create this masterpiece with your god given strength. Of course we have millions of miles to go, if God wills it, and still have memories to make together and things to see and do, but I need you to know that everything we've been through so far, from the very first thing I can remember to our very last conversation, is cherished, because these memories with you, Precious, are more precious than the most precious jewels in this world.
My aim from now on is to make you eternally proud, to do good unto your teachings and make you happy in the long run. I promise you, on my life, that nothing, I ever do will be for my own happiness, but for both of ours, because you did the same for me, you were never selfish, you've never had any bad intentions for me and you've made a million and ten trillion sacrifices for my happiness, thus it is only fair that I honour you, as you have me.
Thank you mother, for your love, your time, your honesty, your compassion, and being there, and never leaving my side, even if you weren't physically there, even on the days when I would cry as I watched you walk away from me as a little kid that didn't quite understand what you were doing and why you had to, and that it was all for me. Thank you for cherishing the memories that I can't remember. Thank you, for never giving up, thank you for nursing my wounds and playing every role you needed to. Thank you for every sacrifice. Thank you for this gift of life. Thank you you for providing for me and thank you for making me into this woman that I am. Thank you for forgiving me for the things that I didn't even know I did. Thank you mother. Thank you, my love. Thank you, Precious. Thank you for loving me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for une vie a plain bord- a life full to it's brim. I love you.
this is the sin'derella project.
